


Unwritten

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/F, Past Angst/Drama, Post-Episode: s03e12 The Bitter Suite, Tarot Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21558217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Gabrielle struggles to write about her and Xena’s experience in Illusia.
Relationships: Gabrielle/Xena
Kudos: 29
Collections: Fortune Favors: Round One— Rider-Waite-Smith





	Unwritten

**Author's Note:**

> Cards: Ace of Wands / The Moon / 3 of Wands (Reversed)
> 
> Writing about a tarot aesthetic-inspired episode for a tarot-inspired fest was coincidental but appropriate! For the curious, [this website](http://www.peregrine.madasafish.com/xenatarot/0fool.htm) compares images from The Bitter Suite with the RWS tarot deck.

When Gabrielle sits down to write about the Land of Illusia, she finds she can’t do it. The torment of revisiting recent painful memories and discovering how deep the lies ran is still too fresh in her mind; she needs time to let it settle. She tells Xena this over their campfire dinner, and Xena gives her a sad smile, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to write about it, you know,” says Xena. “Not now; not ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I know. But I write about everything we do.” Gabrielle sips some of the soup she made, which she knows is bland because Xena hasn’t said anything about it.

Xena raises her eyebrows. “You don’t write about _every_thing we do.”

Gabrielle claps her hand to her mouth to avoid spitting out her dinner, then glares at Xena. “Your timing sure is something, huh?”

That makes the smirk fall from Xena’s face. “I’m sorry,” she says, reaching out a hand. Her serious blue eyes reflect the flickering of the campfire. “Please believe me.”

Gabrielle sighs and says, “I know. But thank you for saying it.”

She doesn’t write anything that night, and they still sleep on different sides of the fire, but after Illusia she isn’t worried that Xena might kill her in her sleep, or vice versa. It’s an improvement. Having to listen to Xena snore, on the other hand, she’s less sure about.

* * *

Gabrielle wakes up first in the morning, an unusual occurrence. She rouses Xena with a gentle shake.

“Get off, Callisto,” Xena murmurs.

Gabrielle retracts her hand. “Strange dreams?”

Xena opens her eyes and struggles to sit up. “No stranger than what we saw in Illusia. I’m glad I’m waking up to your face and not Callisto’s, though.”

“Describe it for me,” says Gabrielle, eyes narrowing in concentration. If she can get the words straight from Xena’s mouth, maybe it will ease her writing process.

But Xena yawns, gets to her feet, and says, “Can it wait until after I’ve used a bush?”

* * *

The next time she tries to write about Illusia, she manages a whole paragraph. It doesn’t work, so she rips off that section of parchment and throws it on the fire. Her scrolls are about Xena, so she has to write at least one scene about their fractured relationship from Xena’s perspective. She just can’t bring herself to ask Xena what she needs to know.

* * *

That night, she dreams about the moon. At first, all the world around her is the same and she doesn’t even realise she’s dreaming until she notices the moon is missing. It isn’t hiding behind clouds, it’s just gone. She wakes up with a gasp.

“Hey.” Xena is there beside her, touching her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gabrielle responds a little too quickly. Her voice shakes a bit, but she clears her throat and pushes her long hair out of her face. When she looks up at the night sky, the moonlight calms her down.

“Did I wake you?” asks Gabrielle, frowning.

“Yeah. Strange dream?” Xena’s words remind Gabrielle of the previous morning, when she asked Xena that same question.

Gabrielle shakes her head. “It was unsettling, but nothing compared to what we’ve been through over the past few years. I’ll be all right.”

“Good. We’ve got a long day of travel ahead of us. Get back to sleep.” Xena lies back down on her bedroll and gestures for Gabrielle to do the same.

“Good night, Xena,” Gabrielle murmurs, and lies close enough to Xena that she could embrace her if she wanted to. But somehow, even though they’ve resumed their many casual touches during the day, this would be too intimate.

* * *

The moon features in her dreams the next night as well. This time, the moon is red, like the blood on her hands when she killed Meridian. Krafstar, Callisto, and Ming Tien all seem to watch from the shadows, waiting to see what she will do next.

She wakes up whimpering, with Hope’s and Solan’s names on her lips.

Once again, Xena is there, and she wraps her arms around Gabrielle and holds her tight. They stay like that for a long time, Xena still embracing Gabrielle as she tries to get back to sleep. It’s only when she feels something wet on her back that she realises Xena is crying too. Gabrielle rolls over so she can cup Xena’s face and kiss the tears off her cheeks. Xena’s eyes remain closed, but the pinched look on her face says she's moved by the gesture. Gabrielle settles down with her head on Xena’s shoulder and an arm around Xena’s waist.

They lie there in silence, sleep not coming easy to either of them.

* * *

The next time she sits down with her scroll, she wets the nib of her quill with her tongue and writes three whole scenes: how she and Xena got to the Land of Illusia and what happened when each of them woke up there. The words flow from her quill as easily as any other story she’s written. She looks at Xena with a triumphant smile as if to say, _See? Told you I could do it._

Xena raises her eyebrows and continues to brush down Argo, not saying a word. Gabrielle scrunches up her face in irritation, then turns back to her scroll. 

Writing about the confrontation between Gabrielle, supported by the uncanny villagers of Potidaea, and Xena, backed by Ares and his army, proves more difficult than the beginning scenes. Even writing about Xena dragging her behind a horse wasn’t this hard. And when Gabrielle gets to the part when Xena killed her, she can’t write it. It’s like there’s a block in her mind, or maybe in her heart – or her soul – preventing her from putting that ultimate betrayal into words she and her audience can understand.

“Maybe you’re right,” she tells Xena while they prepare dinner. “Maybe I shouldn’t write about it at all.”

Xena is scaling the trout she caught that afternoon. “I never said you _shouldn’t_ write about it,” she points out. “I said you didn’t have to if it was too painful. Besides, it’s not as if anyone will care how two women found their way back to each other by singing about their hurt and pain.”

Gabrielle sighs. “I’ve spent all this time wondering why I’m finding Illusia so difficult to write about, but maybe I should be wondering why I feel the need to write about it at all. Why must I put myself through that pain all over again, just to fill a gap in the story? Maybe it doesn’t matter if there’s a gap.”

Xena slaps the fish down on the frying pan that Gabrielle has hooked over the fire to heat up. “Seems like you’ve come to a decision.”

“Yes.” Gabrielle’s voice is firm and steady. “My final decision is that I won’t write about Illusia. Probably.”

“You sound very confident about that.” Xena’s lips curl in a tiny smirk.

Gabrielle elbows her before sprinkling the trout with salt and lemon juice. “If we’re going to be friends again, you’ve got to respect my choices.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Gabrielle,” says Xena. Her voice is low, mocking. “Of course I respect your decision that you have definitely made your mind up about.”

Gabrielle wants to be mad, but a giggle comes out of her mouth instead, because Xena is right. She _thinks_ she doesn’t want to write about Illusia, but she isn’t certain about it. By the gods, she’s never faced this dilemma before; she’s always known what she wants to write about and written it. It feels like she’s being pulled in two different directions. She has to make up her mind.

* * *

That night, Gabrielle dreams about the moon again. She’s with her Amazon sisters, doing some elaborate nocturnal ritual that involves doe’s blood and dancing. Her arms are spread out and she’s spinning when she notices the moon is… well, it’s still _there_, but she can’t see the moon itself, only a golden halo around where it should be.

The Amazons raise their arms towards the moon and chant, and Gabrielle tries her best to join in. The feeling of togetherness makes her smile.

* * *

After breakfast the next morning, Xena tosses a coin. “Heads. We go to Thessaly.”

“Okay,” says Gabrielle, finishing stuffing her bedroll in one of Argo’s saddlebags.

“_Okay_?” Xena frowns at her. “No arguments? No endless list of things you want to buy when we get there?”

Gabrielle grins. “Nope. And I’ve made my decision: for now, I’m going to focus on our travels and on becoming a better warrior. The story about Illusia will come to me in time.”

Xena smiles too, and hugs Gabrielle. Her warmth makes Gabrielle feel all gooey inside, and she moves to kisses Xena’s cheek. Xena turns her head at the last second, though, so Gabrielle’s lips land right on Xena’s. Gabrielle blushes, because as nice as the kiss is, it wasn’t intended.

Fortune, in the shape of an approaching group of goons, cuts short her embarrassment.

As Gabrielle wields her staff, inspiration hits. The inconvenient timing encourages her to fight harder so that she can sit down and write sooner. She sends one man flying, which causes Xena to glance at her, but Gabrielle ignores her, determined to finish this so she can finish her scroll.

The fight doesn’t last long, thanks to Gabrielle’s unusual vigour. As the last of the goons scrambles to his feet and flees the scene, Gabrielle wipes her hands on her skirt and asks Xena if they can stay at the campsite for another day so that she can write.

Xena fixes her with a look. “Seriously?”

Gabrielle throws up her hands. “Look, I know you’re annoyed, and I know you want to go to Thessaly. But there’s no rush, and I’ve got to finish my story while the inspiration’s still there in my mind. Creativity isn’t like a candle, you know – you can’t just light it when you want to and then snuff it out when you’re done with it. I just need to sit down and get these words down on paper.”

Xena gives in after grumbling a little, which Gabrielle knows is for show.

The day passes in a flash, but Gabrielle makes progress. She’s just writing the last sentence when Xena clears her throat.

Gabrielle looks up to see a leg of something roasting over the campfire. The cooking smells had registered in her brain, but she hadn’t paid them much attention. Now she sees – or rather smells – that dinner is ready.

“If you don’t put down that scroll, I’ll use it as a plate,” says Xena.

Gabrielle marks the end of the scroll with such force that she almost stabs through the parchment. Putting down her pen, she says, “You won’t. Not unless you want another trip to Illusia.”

The fact that both women can chuckle at that says a lot.

Xena serves dinner while Gabrielle puts away her quill and her scroll. They sit side by side with their plates of venison. The aroma makes Gabrielle’s mouth water.

“Thank you, Xena,” she says before tucking in.

Xena meets her gaze and smiles. “You’re welcome, Gabrielle.”

They eat in comfortable silence, both knowing that Gabrielle wasn’t just thanking Xena for the food.

* * *

The moon that night is an ordinary half-moon. It doesn’t feature in Gabrielle’s dreams at all.


End file.
